Immigration

A group of young “DREAMers” intends to throw a wrench into the November election plans by waking up a sleeping giant – American Latinos.

Members of the Congressional Hispanic Caucus – a group of Latino members of U.S. Congress – and supporters of the national Dream Act stood in the shadow of the Capitol building in Washington, D.C., on April 19 to launch the “Su Voz, Mi Voto” campaign.

Undocumented students and their allies will walk door-to-door in their home states telling their personal stories to people who will listen. “DREAMers” looking to pass the Dream Act want to motivate thousands of their Latino neighbors to use their votes as legal citizens to bring in a candidate who will support the immigration reform bill.

Republican front-runner Mitt Romney is known for his anti-immigration stance, while President Barack Obama supports the DREAM Act but has failed to follow through with the passage of the bill first introduced in 2001. The legislation would help qualified individuals go to college or enlist in the military with a path to citizenship they otherwise would not have. In 2010, the National Dream Act reached the U.S. Senate, but was defeated by a Republican filibuster.

Latinos and immigrants – legal and undocumented – want to make their voices heard at the polls. The “Su Voz, Mi Voto” campaign is backed by the DRM Capitol Group, a lobbying firm dedicated to driving campaigns for the adoption of the Dream Act, and the iDREAM organization.

“We’re here to send a strong message to both parties that the Dream Act doesn’t belong to any party,” said Cesar Vargas, 28, DREAMer and managing partner of DRM Capitol Group. “We’re fighting for our community, our families – not for any political party. We want to send a message to end deportation and for them to act and take leadership,” he said.

Today, the Republican primaries hit five northeastern states –- New York, Connecticut, Pennsylvania, Delaware and Rhode Island. Romney is expected to pick up most of the 209 delegates up for grabs, bringing him much closer to the end goal of 1,144 delegates by November – his ticket to contest for the White House.

While Romney celebrates another primary sweep, dreamers are hoping to leverage 22 million Latino votes toward the more promising candidate.

Rep. Nydia Velazquez of New York wants to see 22 million Hispanic Americans at this year’s polls -– a 25 percent increase from 2008.

“We will hold accountable those who have failed to support these main policies,” Velazquez said.

She added that it wasn’t a surprise that Obama has a 40 percent lead against Romney among Latino voters.

“We will be out there reminding our Latino voters, our Latino community and immigrants in general who stood with us on this important issue,” she said.

In 2008, 19.5 million Latinos were eligible to vote, but half did not cast ballots, because they were not registered or did not turn out.

Rep. Luis Gutierrez, a councilmember from Chicago and chairman to Immigration Task Force Chairman said it’s an “altruistic” and “noble” task to utilize a vote for group that would be otherwise unheard.

“It’s going to take the hard work of individuals like the ones standing here with us, knocking on doors and getting neighbors who are eligible to vote to get registered,” he said.

On the narrow streets of Kathmandu, the name “Phiroj Shyangden” is more recognizable than that of Bob Seger or Cat Stevens, legendary rockers who’ve both written songs about this exotic city less than 100 miles from Mount Everest.

As lead guitarist and vocalist of 1974 A.D., the popular band whose concerts have packed stadiums and caused traffic nightmares throughout Nepal since the mid-1990s, Shyangden – with his pierced eyebrow and patented dark sunglasses obscured by wavy black bangs – could rarely surface in public without being hounded for autographs or irritated by gossip-like whispers.

But such hassles no longer plague Shyangden, who continues to sing his hits, albeit from a less glamorous platform: The Himalayan Yak, a restaurant in Queens whose website proudly declares, “Good news for all yak meat lovers: We now have yak meat on our menu.”

Three years ago, Shyangden sang and played guitar to the roars of thousands; these days, the closest thing to a roar during his performances is when the “7” train, just outside the Jackson Heights eatery, thunders across the elevated tracks above Roosevelt Avenue.

“To be honest, sometimes I feel very embarrassed playing here,” admitted Shyangden, in his customary soft, deliberate tone that would be a whisper if any quieter. “Sometimes I have to play in front of two tables, in front of three people, instead of playing in front of 50,000 people. But I have to do it. This is for my bread and butter.”

Shyangden, 45, is one of several household names in Nepal who have traded the limelight for better financial opportunities in America.

It’s an immigrant narrative with a peculiar twist: celebrity musicians and actors from a faraway land abandoning their fame and ending up among their fans and fellow countrymen in a neighborhood in Queens. The dynamic, however, often leaves “regular” Nepalese-New Yorkers surprised to find such well-known artists living, working, and in many cases struggling, right alongside of them.

Samir Shahi, a Jackson Heights resident and fan of Shyangden, said that back in Nepal it would’ve been “nearly impossible” to cross paths with the rock star.

“But in New York, I see [Shyangden] every week,” said Shahi, 25, whose iPod includes numerous Shyangden tunes. “Here I’ll bump into him.”

According to Shahi, Nepalese celebrity sightings are not infrequent. He said he recently spotted Gauri Mulla, the famous Kollywood (Nepal’s film industry) actress, on the subway.

Ang Chhiring Sherpa, the Editor in Chief of The Everest Times, a Nepali language newspaper in Woodside, put it this way:

“In Nepal, people like Shyangden, they cannot meet in a public area. It’s impossible,” said Sherpa, the first South Asian journalist to climb Mount Everest, according to his business card. “But when they came here, everybody is busy, and nobody cares who he is.”

In Nepal, an underdeveloped, landlocked country scrunched between China and India, Shyangden said he would typically earn just 20,000 rupees (approximately $244) for large concerts and as little as 2,000 rupees, or $24, for small shows. He also worked as a grammar school music teacher, although that job similarly paid “very little.”

“It was very hard to support my family in Nepal,” said Shyangden, who departed for New York in 2009 while his wife and teenage daughter remained in Kathmandu.

Shyangden acquired permanent U.S. residency as an “alien of extraordinary ability,” a special category of American immigration law that allows foreign citizens who possess a “record of sustained national or international acclaim” to bypass standard bureaucratic procedures and automatically obtain a green card.

Once in New York, which Shyangden describes as “a very fast city” and “vastly different from Kathmandu,” he met two Nepalese immigrants who had been playing a regular gig at The Himalayan Yak: Rajesh Khadgi, 38, an eccentric, eternally-headbanging former drummer of Robin and the New Revolution, one of Nepal’s best-known bands, and Prazwal Bajracharya, a pony-tailed, soft-spoken 30-year-old computer networker who had belonged to an underground Kathmandu band called Lithium.

Blending traditional Nepali folk music with modern genres of rock and roll, blues and jazz, the trio performs several nights a week at the restaurant, which draws a predominantly Nepalese crowd.

Dr. Tara Niraula, an expert on the Nepalese community and an administrator at Bankstreet Graduate School of Education in Manhattan, said that he has spoken with a number of Nepalese celebrities about their transitions from fame to obscurity.

“In Nepal, they were primetime, they had all the attention and prestige,” said Dr. Niraula, who noted that several Nepalese movie stars also reside in Baltimore. “Then all of a sudden, [the fame] is gone and that’s a difficult thing, because in their heart they are different.”

Each morning, Shyangden awakes at 8 a.m. and calls his wife and 14-year-old daughter in Kathmandu. He spends his days practicing guitar, composing songs, and discussing music and life with his band-mates over tea at a Bangladeshi café. To supplement his income from The Himalayan Yak, Shyangden also gives private guitar lessons to Nepalese children.

Shyangden hopes for his family to join him “in the near future,” but “it is a very long process,” he laments, one that “requires a lot of money.” Still, his combined wages from singing and teaching are far greater than what he earned in Nepal, which helps his family.

The Himalayan Yak is at the heart of Queens’ South Asian cultural hub, with the colorful commercial strip of “Little India” just around the corner. Its spacious, rectangular upper floor is outfitted with gold and brick walls, multiple paintings of Buddha, a photograph of the Dalai Llama, and two miniature stuffed representations of the restaurant’s mascot and namesake.

Against this backdrop on a recent Thursday night, Shyangden and his band played an acoustic show in front of about 15 people. Shyangden said he “loves playing” at the restaurant, even if, at times, the miniscule crowds challenge his ego.

At around 11 p.m., the band broke into a cover version of the Eagles’ Hotel California, with Khadgi, the greasy-haired drummer, head-banging and flailing away at his drum set like “Animal” from The Muppets. Once Bajracharya, who’d assumed lead vocals, belted out the famous line, “You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave,” Shyangden erupted into a guitar solo that whipped the tiny audience into delight.

“Every time I hear him play, my energy, my vibe, gets better,” beamed one of the few spectators, Xlabia Khadka from Kathmandu, who now lives in Jackson Heights. “Whenever I come here, half of my stress just goes away.”

It was almost midnight, and up on stage, Shyangden showed no evidence of tiring. His eyes half-closed as if in a trance, Shyangden sang “Gurans Phulyo,” his original composition that once dominated the radio airwaves of Kathmandu.

On December 11, members of Immigrant Worker Justice, a working group of Occupy Wall Street, hosted a "teach-in," in order to relate the message of Occupy Wall Street to immigrant communities. Photo by Eric Zerkel

Packed into a conference room in a lower Manhattan office building, members of Occupy Wall Street’s Immigrant Worker Justice Group (IWJ) got to work, trying to set the agenda for how they would tackle a hot button issue that Republicans and Democrats both struggle to answer.

“It’s all about equal rights,” said Donald Anthonyson, 52, of Harlem, a member of IWJ. “When you’re talking about immigrant worker justice, you can’t get justice unless there is some equality. Immigrant Worker Justice is a vehicle to get equal rights.”

Donald Anthonyson, talks about immigrant workers justice with another group member. Photo by Eric Zerkel

But group membership itself lacks elements of equality, members say. Immigrant communities are left out, and meetings are held during the workweek in various skyscrapers in the financial district.

“A big issue for me is not having meetings in immigrant communities,” said Mark Kushneir, 26, of Prospect Park Brooklyn who helped form IWJ. “I think getting people who are working 6 and 7 days a week, 14 hours a day to come to these meetings, it’s impossible for them to come.”

The IWJ working group is just one of 118 listed working groups behind Occupy Wall Street. It is comprised of a loose coalition of 20 or so New York City based immigrant and labor rights organizations and offers a chance for Occupy Wall Street to shake its demons and accomplish a specific goal.

With no direct immigrant involvement to drive the direction of the group, meeting topics typically steer towards the specific campaigns of the organizations involved – a prison divestment campaign, a boycott on Domino’s pizza, even solicitations to buy tickets for one organization’s fundraiser. With members throwing around the acronyms of the dozens of immigration and labor rights groups in casual conversation, and “twinkling” – moving fingers up and down, in silent agreement– in a measure of “solidarity” with each other, simply communicating in an IWJ meeting is overwhelming to any newcomer.

“Part of the flaws of this whole thing are that if you’re not part of an organization, NGO, or a solid group of people, it’s difficult to participate,” said Kushneir.

Some group members held out hope that two events, a December 11 teach-in and a planned December 18 march from Foley Square to Zuccotti Park, would shift the focus back onto individual immigrant communities.

But Sunday’s teach-in was little more than a staged coalition networking session. There was little discussion of IWJ, or how it could expand into the immigrant communities so underrepresented within. Instead, 10 immigrant and labor rights organizations took to the podium for eight presentations that stretched nearly four hours; IWJ was “teaching” to the choir.

“Organizations are so incredibly focused on what they are doing that they miss a lot of people and miss ways to bridge gaps between communities where there isn’t necessarily a connection,” said Kusneir.

But some members still believe that IWJ can reach out to individual immigrant communities and fight specific cases, such as deportation.

“The Occupy movement is full of thousands of people who are looking for a fight,” said Danny Katch, 36, of Jackson Heights, Queens. “And there is sort of this rare moment, when you have a lot of people saying, I don’t like how this thing usually works, I want to fight that. “

Katch is a self-proclaimed activist and frequent IWJ attendee, who spends his spare time writing articles for the International Socialist Organization. Katch’s first foray into IWJ actually came on behalf of an immigrant facing deportation, Ahmed Hossain.

When Hossain entered the United States from his native Bangladesh, his lawyer at the time mistakenly filed his application for political asylum under a different name, leading an immigration judge to dismiss his case on grounds of fraud and setting the stage for his potential deportation.

Hossain, of Woodhaven, Queens, has been in the United States for 18 years, embedding himself in the Queens Bangladeshi community, earning his way as a taxicab driver, and eventually building a family. In spite of all of this, Hossain faced a November 8 deportation hearing, with the possibility of leaving behind all that he had built in his nearly two decades in New York City.

As a part of Hossain’s campaign, Katch looked for ways to extend Hossain’s case outside of the Jackson Heights Queens Bangladeshi community, where Katch said Hossain’s case already had gained tremendous support.

“I do think there is a big gap between the Bangladeshi community, where there is a lot of knowledge and support, and the rest of the public, where there is kind of nothing,” Katch said.

He racked his mind for ways to bridge that gap in order to garner a wider array of public support, which he hoped would pressure Immigration and Customs Enforcement, or ICE, to suspend Hossain’s case.

“Ahmed was going to be facing deportation at 26 Federal Plaza which is only 10 blocks north of Zuccotti Park, said Katch. “So I had it in my head, how do we get Occupy Wall Street involved in this case?”

Through the International Socialist Organization, Katch was put into contact with the IWJ, and after acquiring a spot on the group’s agenda, Katch brought Hossain before the working group to plead his case.

Members sprang into action, planning a march on Hossain’s hearing date, offering guidance, legal aide, and most importantly using their immigrant and labor rights’ organizations’ contacts to lobby politicians on his behalf.

But before the group could march and protest in true Occupy Wall Street fashion, ICE issued a one-year deferral of Hossain’s case. And, despite all of IWJ’s involvement in Hossain’s case, Katch remained skeptical of the group’s affect.

“We’ll never know, because ICE doesn’t tell you why they make the decisions they do, but my opinion is that Immigrant Worker Justice and Occupy Wall Street didn’t have that big of an impact, said Katch. “I have a feeling that, the fact that a bunch of politicians, including Senator [Kirsten] Gillibrand, signed on in support probably had the bigger impact.”

Katch said that he usually doesn’t believe lobbying politicians offers a more effective outlet than protestation, and saw a new potential in Occupy Wall Street and Immigrant Worker Justice.

“What’s more important is that it [Ahmed’s case] kind of showed a direction that the Occupy movement could go in,” he said. ”Maybe the Occupy movement could fight deportation, and fight cases that highlight immigrants.”

But in order for that potential to take hold, IWJ will have to take further steps to include direct immigrant involvement, a value that Tsedeye Gebreselassie, 32, of Park Slope, Brooklyn sees great value in.

“Trying to fight through the xenophobia and anti-immigrant hysteria to try to get your message across is really tough,” said Gebreselassie. “And one of the best ways to do it is to have immigrant workers themselves get to the forefront of these campaigns.”

Kushneir echoed Gebreselassie’s sentiments, saying that the movement would have to start with organizations, but that the goal is to move away from that emphasis and into immigrant communities.

“They [organizations] are going to be focused specifically on doing it one way,” said Kushneir. “Whereas if we approach immigrants independently, the potential I think, is really endless.”

Undocumented students from NYSYLC participate in DREAM Graduation Ceremony in Washington, DC. Photo by Juan David Gastolomendo

Guadalupe Gracida crossed the border from Mexico into Arizona on foot. From there, she and her parents drove to New York, spending over two days in an uncomfortably crowded van, crushed in with almost 40 others.

It was a dangerous month-long journey—the family was robbed, and at one point had to hide in a safe house for over two weeks. Gracida was 14.

With hopes of a better life, her family settled in Elmhurst, Queens where she entered school and laid down an impressive track record earning A’s and B’s in her classes.

But when senior year came, the reward of higher education was not around the corner. Though she was accepted to Queensborough Community College, she could not attend. It wasn’t a valid social security number that blocked her from starting school, nor trouble with Immigration Services. Instead, she would not be entering college because her family could not afford the annual $3,600 tuition.

Gracida was partially prepared for the disappointment. “I knew it was going to be hard for me,” she said.

Her story of struggling to fulfill the dream of graduating from college is only one of many. There are approximately 345,000 undocumented students across New York. Some may never hope to sit in a university classroom, but for those that do, tuition is a main barrier.

Recent political moves however, could make it easier for Gracida and others like her to find the funds to realize their higher education ambitions.

The New York State Board of Regents voted on a resolution on November 14th “to support the extension of the state’s Tuition Assistance Program (TAP) to all students, regardless of immigration status,” according to the organization’s website. The decision will set off a process that could result in a new law for the Empire State. It would open taxpayer funds to undocumented students seeking higher education—a group previously barred from eligibility.

If passed, New York would join only two other states in making state aid available to immigrants living in America illegally.

Under the proposed plan, approved applicants could be awarded up to $5,000 per person per year to offset the cost of college—an amount that for many undocumented young adults could make the difference between dreams realized or repealed.

For Gracida, one of the approximately 10,000 undocumented youth who would now qualify for funds to put towards TAP-approved universities, those dreams meant majoring in psychology and taking a minor in history. She hopes to work with kids and teens in schools, to counsel them through what she sees as a troubled time in their lives.

But without the cash to pay for tuition, and college deferred till at least next year, Gracida is going down a path well-worn by undocumented youngsters—looking for low-earning jobs after high school graduation despite the potential for more.

“I’m looking for anything that comes. In this recession, nobody has jobs and with my status, I have no social security number, it is harder for me to find a good job,” she said.

Though it will be difficult to save enough money for tuition while earning low wages, Gracida is undeterred. “I believe at the end, the most important thing is my education. I am going to take the time and the resources. No matter what, I’m going to graduate one day,” she said.

Though students in New York do have a leg up over the college-bound in other states, for undocumented youth like Gracida, tuition remains out of reach. Albany allows illegal immigrants to pay in-state tuition making it significantly more affordable. Queensborough costs a New York resident $3,600 for two full semesters of up to 18 credits. An out-of-stater would pay $5,670 for two semesters of 12 credits each.

But even $3,600 a year is unmanageable when earning under $20,000, the average annual income for Mexican Immigrants according to the Center for Immigration Studies, a conservative, anti-immigration group.

The Education Equity for DREAMers Act, if passed through the New York State legislature, could help Gracida, and students like her, to close the gap and pay for school.

But there is a long legislative road ahead before the plan goes into effect. The resolution for a proposed bill, was passed by the Board of Regents, but the law must now be drafted by that body.

According to Natalia Aristizabal, the Youth Organizer with the immigration group, Make the Road New York, the proposed bill must then be sponsored by state leaders in both the Senate and Assembly and brought to floor of each house.

Aristizabal has been following the proposal closely and says that if everything goes smoothly, it will be introduced in Albany early in the next legislative session—perhaps as soon as January. She says it’s even possible that the bill could be voted on before February.

But opposition for the measure may rear its head. “This is a tough time for a bill like this. There’s not even enough money right now to offset tuition costs for legal, documented New Yorkers,” Republican State Senator Martin Golden said to the New York Daily News.

A version of the bill was voted down by the state legislature last March. But that potential law included big ticket, controversial elements like state drivers’ licenses and access to health care. The new iteration focuses exclusively on financial aid.

Unlike the federal bill that has languished on the Hill since 2001, the state-level law would not seek to blaze a path to citizenship for students, only help them along as they attempt to make the best of living in America without legal documentation.

This is a significant flaw of the measure according to anti-immigration advocates.

“If you say that we should legalize folks, then of course we should offer them the same public services we offer others, but the question here is, how do you justify scholarships to people who are not supposed to be here?” said Steven Camarota, Director of Research at the Center for Immigration Studies based in Washington, D.C..

Camarota said there is an inherent contradiction in the argument that government should help build an educated workforce when the people seeking aid are explicitly barred from holding a job in the United States. He questions the idea that undocumented students graduating from college will even be able to find better-paying work.

“It’s harder to get a job as an accountant or school teacher, a college educated job. There, they tend to check documents,” said Camarota. “It’s much easier to be a hotel maid.”

And, he said, there are opportunity costs. “If you spend money on illegal aliens that’s money you can’t spend on other things.”

Camarota said this could mean sacrificing anything from fixed pot holes to school aid for legal immigrants and native Americans.

He would call someone like Gracida a “compelling anecdote,” someone with a sympathetic story that focuses policymakers on the benefits of this kind of immigration policy.

But for Gracida, who feels like she grew up in America, who came of age in Elmhurst, this policy is not just about her.

“I am another young person who wants to succeed, not just for my family but also for my community,” she said. “There are a lot more DREAMers that they are already graduated, that they are working in many low paid jobs. And they are wasting their potential.”

Lavish signs in all hues of orange, blue, and green adorn Main Street in Flushing, Queens, showcasing homeland favorites like flaky, pan-fried scallion pancakes and luscious pearl milk tea to Chinese movies and books galore. Most of these signs catch the eye not for their colors or designs, but because majority of them are in Chinese.

“It really makes me feel like I’m actually there – in China,” said Rouen, France native Agnes Rousseau, 37, who was visiting New York with her husband and two young daughters. “But it’s extremely overwhelming and a bit intimidating how nearly every sign is structured in the same way with barely any English translations.”

Last August, Councilman Peter Koo urged inspectors with the New York City Department of Consumer Affairs to enforce a state law passed in 1993 that would require Flushing businesses to have at least 60 percent of their signs in English or face a fine if they did not comply. The law was originally enacted during the Depression to safeguard shoppers from scams in underground stores.

“Ultimately, these bills will help local businesses expand their customer base, increase revenues and be more consumer friendly,” said Koo in a press release. “Additionally, our police, firemen and emergency responders will be able to easily locate an establishment and ascertain what type of business they will encounter when they arrive.”

Koo’s chief of staff, James McLelland, said the bill is still being discussed in general counsel.

The proposition has divided much of the Asian population. Some dissenters believe English signs would not only “alienate” Chinese customers, especially those who do not speak English and rely on the signs for guidance, but also force immigrants to assimilate to American customs. On the other hand, supporters of the law feel that implementing English is something necessary that would not only generate more revenue by attracting consumers of more diverse backgrounds, but also seems proper to incorporate the dialect that U.S. citizens are required to know.

Flushing resident Yu Zhou, 52, does not want the signs to change. They help her feel connected to her native language and culture.

“My language and culture is all I have here to remind me of what I left behind,” she said . “I feel like I would be giving up a part of me if all the signs were to change.”

Zhou, who came to New York with her daughter and son from Shanghai nearly 20 years ago, said she felt the law “may have good intentions,” but being immersed into “so much English” in a city supposedly renowned for its diversity is upsetting.

According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, Asian Americans constitute about 12 percent of New York City’s population, with those of Chinese origin making up nearly half that number.

Maylei Zhou, 24, Yu’s daughter, has been frequenting Main Street’s Tai Pan Bakery for her daily morning roast pork bun and hot milk tea before her commute to Hunter College, where she is studying nursing. She said the bakery, which caters to a mostly Chinese community, makes her relive the few memories she has left of her childhood back in Shanghai.

Maylei Zhou (center), a Shanghai native who has been living in Flushing for the past 20 years, shops for fruits outside the Ou Jiang Supermarket on the corner of Main Street and 40th Road in Flushing, Queens on Saturday. Photo by Alexa Mae Asperin

“It’s like my little piece of China,” she said. “It gives me a sense of connection to the things we left back home. But for others, the menu, the language, it may seem a bit overwhelming.”

Zhou referenced the predominantly Chinese-language menu at Tai Pan Bakery, where she pointed out the minute English descriptions under the large Chinese lettering of menu items, adding that for those unfamiliar with the Chinese language, deciphering the menu could very much be a daunting endeavor.

A few blocks down south at the Maxin Bakery, which also has a menu much akin to the one in Tai Pan, Mai Ling Chen, 45, said most of the regular customers were of Chinese descent and that tourists rarely frequented the eatery. She said the law, if enforced, would not welcome new customers, but rather discourage some of their current patrons.

“When most people think of Chinatown, they go to Manhattan, not Flushing,” said Chen, of Bayside, Queens. “Most of the people that come in here are Chinese and other Asian customers buying groceries or baked goods on a daily basis, not as a one-time visit.”

The New York City Department of City Planning’s 2000 Census states there are over 122,000 foreign-born residents in Queens Community District 7, which includes cities such as Flushing, College Point, and Bay Terrace. Of that figure, about 32,000 people are from China. Additionally, nearly 35 percent of that population does not speak English; Chinese is the main language spoken in 27,031 homes.

Gary Luo, 55, owner of a small electronics store nearby, agreed with Chen, noting that most of his customers are fellow Chinese consumers, many from his hometown of Beijing. Luo said most of the people that visit his store come in because “they feel comfortable asking questions about technical things with someone they know will not judge or criticize them if their language is a little off.”

Luo, who came to Flushing 22 years ago with his daughter and son, said he struggled learning English but knew it was necessary for him to start his business. He added that he felt it was important for him to know English so he could teach his children.

“It was scary at first when we first came to America, learning something new, but it’s part of being an American,” Luo said. “I feel as a Chinese-American that you need to embrace the English language but remember your roots also. You don’t need to give it all up.”

However, he added that the law does not take into consideration differences between the Chinese and English languages.

“That up there in Chinese means Red House,” Luo said as he pointed to a fluorescent orange sign surrounded by other multicolored placards. “But that’s actually a real estate office.”

Lin Chun, 31, of Flushing, left Changsha, China for New York five years ago to pursue a law degree. She has come to Maxin Bakery every morning for her usual coffee and egg tart, which she said instantly “teleports me to the corner bakery in Changsha.” She felt it was a “shame” that the battle for English signs in Flushing was garnering opposition because “equality is something that should be present everywhere.”

“I am proud of my heritage, my culture, my language,” Chun said. “You see all of that here, but I’m not only Chinese. I’m Chinese-American. And that means the English language is a part of me now, too. It’s only fitting that everyone should get the best of both worlds.”

After fleeing Peru in 2001 because he was persecuted for being gay, Jair Izquierdo settled in New Jersey, met his future husband, and started a life with him. But that life was brought to an abrupt halt last year when Izquierdo was deported for being in the country illegally.

Izquierdo and his partner, American citizen Richard Dennis of Jersey City, N.J., are one of thousands of binational same-sex couples in the United States that struggle with deportation. They were joined together by a civil union, but Izquierdo was an illegal immigrant, and because immigration law is federal, rather than state, Dennis was unable to sponsor him for citizenship.

“Most people don’t even realize how screwed up it is,” Dennis said of the current immigration law and how it applies to gay couples. “There’s so much subjectivity and fear and misinformation.”

The Defense of Marriage Act

The problem for couples like Dennis and Izquierdo is the Defense of Marriage Act, which ruled in 1996 that marriage is a legal union between a man and a woman. Because of DOMA, the federal government and its agencies, including those responsible for immigration benefits, are prohibited from recognizing same-sex marriages and civil unions.

“It’s very hard to explain to the many people who call us every day because it’s so patently unjust,” said Victoria Neilson, the legal director at Immigration Equality, a national organization that advocates for the rights of lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgendered immigrants.

In February, the Obama administration announced that it would no longer continue to defend DOMA in the courts. However, it will be enforced until Congress or the Supreme Court votes to strike it down. In the meantime, the administration claims to be focusing on immigrants with criminal records.

This makes sense, Neilson said, because the backlog of immigration cases in each state would ease up, and many immigrants with clean records and ties to the community would have their cases closed. But whether this theory is being put into practice is a source of contention.

“It doesn’t really seem like the word has reached the field of the actual attorneys and ICE agents who are charged with deciding whether to put people in removal proceedings or not,” Neilson said, referring to the people working for Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE).

Dennis echoes Neilson’s concerns.

“They talk tough about secure communities and weeding out criminals, but I think that they just want to deport as many people as possible,” he said. “So the rhetoric doesn’t match the actions and it doesn’t match reality.”

Fighting for “Traditional” Marriage

Immigration Equality advocates for same-sex marriage so couples like Dennis and Izquierdo can be together. On the other side of the issue are the signers of the Manhattan Declaration, who believe in the traditional marriage view that DOMA reinforces.

Helen Alvare, a professor at the George Mason University School of Law, signed the declaration because she believes that maintaining traditional marriage protects children. She wants the government to consider new reforms that scholars and legislators have come up with that would result in what she calls “equal recognition.”

Then she heard the story of Dennis and Izquierdo. She called their separation “a huge tragedy in their lives,” but was left unconvinced that the laws of marriage should be changed.

“Is this situation really enough to overturn the argument that we really need to make something special of opposite sex unions?” Alvare asked. She said that traditional marriage still needs to be honored above all.

For couples like Dennis and Izquierdo, she suggested going some other way than “the marriage route.”

“Changing marriage as a tool for [immigration benefits] is not enough.”

Other Options

According to the Williams Institute at UCLA, there are an estimated 28,500 binational same-sex couples living in the United States. The options are limited if the foreign partner is in the country illegally, especially if it has been for longer than a year, like it was for Izquierdo.

“If someone’s here with a visa and they overstay, under current immigration law, it’s almost impossible to change from being here illegally to being here legally within the United States,” said Neilson. “And if a person leaves the country to try and legalize their status, if they have been here over a year, they can’t come back for ten years.”

Izquierdo applied for asylum after having been in the country for five years, and was denied. A series of appeals and requests to reopen the case have led to a court sending the decision back to the immigration judge, claiming the reasoning to not reopen were invalid.

Dennis said that they will move to Canada or Europe if Izquierdo cannot come back to the U.S., a common remedy among binational couples.

“We do see a fair amount of couples who end up giving up on the U.S. entirely and starting a new life in Canada,” Neilson said.

Ending DOMA

Since the current Congress has not passed much legislation, Immigration Equality is looking to the Supreme Court to repeal DOMA. Neilson suspects that the earliest this could happen is 2013, so Immigration Equality is pursuing other legislative actions in the meantime.

The Uniting American Families Act is pending, a bill that would amend immigration law to say “permanent partner” where “spouse” exists, so an American can sponsor his or her partner for immigration benefits.

There’s also the Respect for Marriage Act, which would legislatively appeal DOMA. Immigration Equality also encourages its clients to call their political representatives and ask for their help.

“When you work with lesbian and gay immigrant families, you see that it’s not an abstract right,” Neilson said. “It’s a fundamental desire to just be with the person you love. And that’s just such a heart-wrenching situation to talk to someone who finally found the person they want to be with, and they can’t be with them because of this unjust law. It’s got to go.”

Over 100 years ago, Little Italy was a neighborhood spread out for over a dozen blocks, stuffed to the brim with Italian immigrant families who lived and worked there to achieve the American dream. But today its size has shrunk from a heaping plate of spaghetti to a mere forkful. The neighborhood stretches only about four blocks, which are filled with tourist shops and restaurants pushing “the best homemade” cannolis and meatballs around.

What was once a home to thousands of Italian immigrants in New York has become what many call a tourist trap. But though the neighborhood has changed, there are some Italian-Americans who refuse to give up their businesses, homes and the true essence of Little Italy. Many believe that those who remain in the neighborhood are what keep its nostalgia alive.

Hasia Diner, professor and academic chair of Hebrew and Judiac Studies at NYU, said that Italians immigrants moving out of the neighborhood was a positive thing for them because it meant they were making it.

“Little Italy was really the victim of its own success, in as much as the children and for sure the grandchildren of the people who lived there wanted to live in places with yards, if not the actual suburbs,” Diner said.

“Every week we do this,” he said. “We play and then decide who gets what,” he said pointing at the scratch tickets with a hearty laugh, waving his hand adorned with a gold ring on his pinky and chain on his wrist. On the crisp fall afternoon, Vella was dressed to the nines; his black knee-length peat coat and grey grizzly hair toped off the look.

Vinny Vella, 63, is a 3rd generation Italian-American who's lives in Little Italy. He loves New York and the neighborhood because of the hustle and bustle. Photo by Nicole Guzzardi

Vella, 63, is an actor who has lived in Little Italy most his life, and prefers to keep it that way. Though he said the area has changed dramatically since he was young, he can’t seem to bring himself to leave. For Vella, Little Italy still possesses charm and romance.

“I’m still here because I was born here,” he said. “I live here, I lived her all my life, it’s home, where am I gonna go?”

Between 1810 and 1980, over 5.3 million Italians immigrated to the U.S., many fleeing poverty and overpopulation, with over 2 million between 1900 and 1910, according to census information. Many of these Italians settled in Little Italy neighborhoods all over the country, the most famous being in New York.

“For the Italians of New York, Little Italy became the place to go to,” Diner said. “It came to stand for a symbol of authenticity.”

Historically, Little Italy in Lower Manhattan ran north to Bleecker Street and south to Canal Street. It stretched west to Lafayette and east to Bowery Street. Today, the neighborhood has shrunk to a few blocks on a single street. Businesses were once stretched out among the large neighborhood. Now what’s left of the neighborhood lies mainly on Mulberry Street from Broome to Canal streets.

Meanwhile Chinatown, Little Italy’s touching neighborhood, continues to grow in size and numbers, engulfing areas of Little Italy as Asian immigrants continue to flow into the United States. Stores once owned and run by Italians have been sold to Chinese management.

Diner said Chinese immigration was big in the 1960s and still continues to be today.

Vella has his own theory on why the neighborhood changed. Back in the 1940s and 50s when many Italians immigrated to New York, they bought up a lot of buildings for a little money, he said. But as time went on and rent increased, many were forced to sell, or wanted to take the money and make a new life.

“All of a sudden someone comes around in the 70s and 80s and says they’ll give you two million dollars for the building, and they take they money,” he said. “They neva had that kinda money before.”

Many Italians left Little Italy, moving to other parts of New York, like Staten Island and Long Island, he said.

Vella’s father, Louie, started his own fish market on Mott Street in Little Italy, and ran the business for years before selling. Louie was born in New York, but was taken back to Italy with his parents, who were born in Italy, when he was nine months old. He grew up in Italy and came back to New York at 17. He started working as an ice man, saved money, bought a pushcart to sell fish from and eventually opened his own market.

Louie ran the market 41 years before selling. Vella said his father didn’t sell because he needed the money, but because he had to retire. Louie didn’t want to sell the business to anyone but an Italian, Vella said.

“I said ‘Pa, there’s no Italians gonna buy this store. It’s all Chinese right now, you have no choice,’ ” he said.

Eventually he couldn’t keep it up anymore, Vella said, and his father sold the business to a Chinese family, who still runs the market today.

Over the years Vella has watched the neighborhood change.

“There are more tourists now then there were before. Canal Street was the borderline. There was Italians on one side of the street and Chinese on the other,” Vella said.

While there is no doubt the neighborhood is not the size it once was, others believed it hasn’t really changed all that much.

Tramontana, an Italian-American who was raised and still resides in Little Italy, said there are still plenty of Italians living in the area. Tramontana, 30, is president of Sons of Little Italy in New York, an organization dedicated to promoting tradition and culture. He believes the changes the neighborhood has seen are just a natural part of immigration itself.

“This was a Dutch-Irish neighborhood,” he said. “The Dutch-Irish moved to the outer boroughs; it became an Italian neighborhood, the Italians moved to the outer boroughs. It’s the American way.”

Tramontana himself said he too will eventually move from the neighborhood, because when he has a family, he wants to give them a different life, the yard.

Among the Italians who still own space and run businesses in the neighborhood are Italian-American brothers Frank and Nick Angileri. The Angileri brothers have run La Bella Café on Mulberry Street for 41 years. The brothers were both born in Sicily, Italy, and Franky moved to New York by himself at age 17. A few years later his brother Nick came to live in Little Italy as well.

Frank Angilieri, 68, owns La Bella Ferrera Cafe on Mulberry Street in Little Italy. He was raised in Italy and came to New York at age 17. He opened this business with his brother Nick Angilieri 41 years ago. Photo by Nicole Guzzardi

Franky Angileri, 68, thinks the neighborhood changed partly because the younger generation of Italians went to school, became educated and moved out of the neighborhood for more comfort and space. With fewer Italians, the neighborhood began to change, he said.

“Many years ago, Italian people used to control the neighborhood and make sure no other nationalities came; they wanted to keep it Italian. Unfortunately, those kinda people aren’t around anymore,” Angileri said.

“They sold out,” Tramontana said. “They didn’t sell to their own kind. The Chinese came through with shopping bags full of money.”

Tramontana said that organizations in Little Italy have to step up promotion and public relations to bring the “bridge and tunnel” people back to the neighborhood.

“That’s the future of Little Italy, having your locals come back,” he said.

There is no way of knowing how long Little Italy will withstand the economic challenges and overflow of other neighborhoods, but some Italians will stay to keep its essence alive.

Jordan Velazquez, 20, stands behind the front counter at La Carreta Market in Detroit's Mexicantown. Velazquez said more aggressive border patrol enforcement has led to a decrease in business at the store. Photo by Kathryn Kattalia

At La Carreta Market on Bagley Street, it’s not uncommon to see border patrol officials navigating their way through narrow aisles brimming with dried chilies, piñatas and imported Mexican candy.

“There have been times where I’ve had border patrol outside the store,” said Jordan Velazquez, 20, an employee at the Mexicantown market. “They’ve never grabbed anyone from here, but if people see border patrol outside or around here, they immediately get scared.”

For residents living in Detroit’s Mexicantown, stories of border patrol officers picking up illegal immigrants from stores and restaurants have become increasingly common—and businesses are starting to feel the impact.

Small storeowners, who are already struggling to keep up in a crippling economy, say they now face another challenge: they’re losing customers as more aggressive immigration law enforcement has scared many residents away from the neighborhood.

Employees at La Carreta Market on Bagley Street said more aggressive border patrol enforcement has led to a decline in business. Photo by Kathryn Kattalia

“People have a sense of fear like, I can walk out of my house today and maybe I might not be able to come back to my house tonight,” Velazquez said. “It has gotten worse.”

The Federation for American Immigrant Reform estimates there are nearly 200,000 illegal immigrants living in the state of Michigan. While experts say it is impossible to peg down the number of undocumented people in Detroit, the number of foreign-born residents has grown significantly in the last decade, from 137,769 in 2000 to 162,550 in 2008.

Over the last 10 years, more relaxed immigration policies have lured many undocumented Latinos to Mexicantown, a neighborhood that has been a regular magnet for immigrants since the 1950s.

But Angela Reyes, founder and executive director of the Detroit Hispanic Development Corporation, said that’s all starting to change. Immigration and Customs Enforcement officers in Michigan have become more zealous when it comes to sweeping the city for illegal immigrants, she said. Some people are moving to the suburbs where they feel safer. Others simply aren’t leaving their homes.

“It has been really oppressive to the point where they follow people to schools and churches, they’re waiting outside our organizations, raiding homes,” Reyes said. “It has had quite a big impact. Business owners notice because people are afraid of leaving their house.”

A bill proposed by state congressman Dave Agema to the Michigan House of Representatives in February would make it legal for law enforcement officers to demand documentation from anyone they approach for an offense or believe might be here illegally.

Agema said the bill, currently still in committee, would make it harder for illegal immigrants to stay in Michigan.

“Detroit and Ann Arbor have been a sanctuary in the state of Michigan which means if they get somebody that is illegal, they don’t turn them over to I.C.E.,” Agema said. “Basically they’re harboring criminals which is against the law and against the constitution.”

However, business owners say the increased law enforcement is having a negative effect when it comes to bringing in customers. Gloria Rosas, owner of Xochi’s Mexican Imports, said sales have dropped 50 percent since she first opened her colorful store on Bagley Street in the 1970s.

“Of course it’s the economy, but it’s also that people are leaving and are scared to come,” Rosas said. “You see people in churches and schools and supermarkets—they are scared of border patrol.”

On an overcast Saturday morning, Maribel Enriquez is one of the few people who can be seen out running errands on Bagley Street.

Enriquez, 26, who has lived in Southwest Detroit for most of her life, said she hasn’t just heard stories of people disappearing—she’s experienced it first-hand. Ten months ago, her stepfather was deported after being pulled over by police on Interstate 75.

“They’re deporting like crazy,” Enriquez said. “They’re getting people on the street.”

The result has had a paralyzing effect on everyone, she said.

“For a little while, I don’t think anyone went out anymore,” Enriquez said.

A spokesperson for the I.C.E Michigan office did not return phone calls for comment. However, officials have said that the push to crack down on illegal immigration in the state has focused on mostly on undocumented immigrants with criminal records.

In September, a nationwide crosscheck enforcement operation by ICE resulted in 58 arrests of undocumented people with felony convictions in Michigan, 18 from Detroit.

Velazquez said the tougher law enforcement has also made it harder for people without papers to find employment, and spending is coming to a standstill.

“If people don’t have that many job opportunities any more like they used to, they don’t come here and cash their checks,” Velazquez said. “They don’t go to any restaurants, they don’t go to stores to shop, they don’t go anywhere.”

And in a neighborhood that’s already struggling to stay afloat, even legal residents are on edge, Reyes said.

“You just never know where (border patrol officers) are going to be,” she said. “Many people that I know of who are second, third generation, have been stopped and interrogated. I carry my passport with me everywhere I go because of that.”

Players assemble a pick-up game of soccer April 22 at Pier 42 of Chelsea Piers Sports & Entertainment Complex in Manhattan. More soccer fields popped up in New York as more immigrants come to the city. Photo by Frank Riolo.

Big increases in the U.S. immigrant population could correlate with soccer’s growing popularity.

According to U.S. Census data, the U.S. Latino population jumped 43 percent between 2000 and 2010—85 percent of whom are from countries such as Mexico, Argentina and Venezuela where soccer is king.

These stats could put soccer within striking distance of becoming a major sport in America.

“I think it definitely could become a major sport in the future,” said Paul Rolston, a former Division I soccer player for Manhattan College. “With the way the sport’s been developing in this country, I think there’s a good chance it will definitely become even more popular.”

Rolston, of Riverdale in the Bronx, said he played all types of sports as a kid, often following the lead of his older brothers. But when it came time to pick a high school sport, he chose soccer – both as a player and as a fan.

“They’re building new stadiums all over the place and selling out stadiums,” he said. “I was at a Red Bull’s game last weekend and it just seems that fans are very excited about the game now.”

Listen to what New York soccer fans have to say about the game’s popularity in AmericaAltarv1.mp3

New York City, which is home to more than 3 million Latinos, has contributed a great deal to the national soccer fan base.

The New York Red Bulls, the metropolitan area’s MLS franchise, saw a 48 percent increase in attendance in 2010 after opening a new stadium last year in Harrison, N.J.

The addition of the Vancouver Whitecaps and the Portland Timbers also boosts the MLS franchise total to 18 teams, giving the league six more teams overall since 2000.

Soccer’s popularity among younger Americans has also increased. The non-profit organization U.S. Youth Soccer now has more than 3 million members between 5 and 19-years-old.

“I think it’s a number of factors,” said U.S. Youth Soccer president John Sutter, referring to the growth in participation. “You have soccer becoming more of a mainstream sport. The 1994 World Cup kicked (the increase) off and each of the World Cups since then have probably spread interest. And you have the message that schools are pushing down on kids – that we want you to become a little more physically fit.”

U.S. Youth Soccer represents the largest youth sports organization in the country, according to its website; its membership is higher than that of Little League baseball and dwarfs Pop Warner football.

Sutter said the number of Latinos and other immigrant participants have contributed to the increase in U.S. Youth Soccer’s membership. He said the organization does not keep exact figures on immigrant participation, but added that the group establishes programs where immigrants settle.

“We have special inner-city programs, like our Soccer Across America program, which specifically targets folks in those types of areas,” Sutter said. “Those will reach out to the more diverse cultures. Most of which have soccer in their background.”

Sutter also credited Title IX, the U.S. law that protects against discrimination from an activity based on sex, for growing interest in the game among U.S. female adolescents.

Despite soccer’s growing popularity, sports management expert and former sports agent Robert Boland said he’s not sold on the idea of it becoming a major sport in America.

“I think soccer is better served by being realistically aware of what its limitations are and what its economic model is,” he said.

While soccer has taken a tremendous leap as a participatory sport, Boland said spectator numbers do not indicate any notable achievement, adding that most recent immigrants also assimilate to the American sports scene.

“Pele’s first game in the U.S. in 1970 drew 10 million viewers on CBS,” Boland said, referring to the Brazilian soccer star Edson Arantes do Nascimento’s – better known as “Pele” – first visit to America. “Last year’s World Cup finals drew 17 million viewers 40 years later. The population has grown by 33 percent. So, based on those numbers alone, a throwaway event that was essentially a minor league involving Pele drew as many viewers as the World Cup finals.”

Boland also said he’s not sure whether MLS can replace one of the lesser of the four major U.S. sports, the NBA and NHL, based on total attendance. He said popularity should be measured in other ways.

“That’s an apples to oranges comparison,” Boland said, referring to MLS attendance versus that of the NHL or NBA. “An indoor arena that holds 20,000 at 17,000 attendance has sold most of its seats…Percentage of capacity is more important than pure number of fans…If MLS is playing in front of 17,000, but the average stadium capacity is 28,000 or 29,000 that’s not as good comparatively.”

In other words, if the NHL or NBA played in bigger arenas they would probably be outdrawing MLS by a more significant number.

Boland said MLS must keep ticket prices lower than other professional American sports in order to keep fans coming back. He added that puts MLS closer to the category of Minor League Baseball and the Ultimate Fighting Championship, or UFC.

But others like Rolston still believe the sport can have a foothold within the American public. He said if MLS can recruit more foreign superstars, such as David Beckham, and the U.S. National team continues to perform well at international tournaments, soccer may soon be considered another American pastime

“I think for young people growing up watching these great players will help them learn the game better,” he said. “I think (kids) will work harder to try to be better players if they are led by good examples.”

Wendy Reyes, 32, prepares the usual order for a local customer at family-owned Guadalupita II Mexican Deli and Grocery in Sunset Park, Brooklyn. Reyes listens to her customers talk about issues like gang violence and anti-immigration laws that affect the local Mexican community. Photo by Amanda Plasencia

Wendy Reyes prepared the usual order of “res,” a type of meat used in Mexican cuisine, for a customer at her family-owned bodega. Familiar products from home, like “res,” papalo and extra spicy jalapenos, bring comfort to her neighborhood customers, many who recently immigrated here from Mexico.

The bodega, Guadalupita II Mexican Deli and Grocery, sells specialty Mexican products at Fifth Avenue and 39th Street in Sunset Park, Brooklyn. For more than 13 years, Reyes has listened to her customers talk about issues such as their Mexican heritage, gang violence and anti-immigration laws that affect the neighborhood’s Mexican community.

Reyes, 32, is the owner’s daughter. She works the deli counter and register every day.

Originally from Puebla, Mexico, she immigrated to the United States with her family when she was 15.

“We left Mexico looking for opportunities and a better life. The only thing you can do in Puebla is to farm,” Reyes said.

Visiting Guadalupita II, like many of the bodegas in Sunset Park, is like crossing the border into Mexico. As you walk in, there is the smell and allure of jalapenos. Lively Mexican music and ceilings lined with brightly colored banners called “papel picado” give the place a fiesta vibe.

“We have a lot of specialty items that you only find in Mexico. We sell rare Mexican cooking herbs like papalo and pipicha, which has a ‘sabor fuerte,’ ” Reyes said.

Reyes’ family came to Sunset Park because they knew Mexicans were already living in the neighborhood and thought it would be a good place to start their business.

“I came over illegally with my family through Tijuana and then entered through California into Los Angeles. We came with a coyote smuggler,” Reyes said.

According to Reyes, many of the residents in Sunset Park are here legally, but there are some recent immigrants who have crossed the border illegally. Reyes and her family now have work visas and green cards, but no one has become a U.S. citizen.

“They come here because they need work,” Reyes said. “If not, why would you come? The majority have come illegally.”

The journey to Sunset Park is not easy, she said.

“After crossing the border, it was hard because we had to walk and walk all through the night,” Reyes said. “We would get on the ground when we saw the helicopters and hide behind trees.”

The family lived in Los Angeles for a month until her aunt told them to come live with her in Manhattan.

“My dad bought a rickety old car to take us across the country,” Reyes said. “It was my mom, dad, sister, brother and I driving with a map and without knowing English from Los Angeles all the way to New York.”

Reyes has experienced a lot in the neighborhood. She says it is a safe area, but admits there have been some incidents of gang violence.

“They are young hoodlums here. A long time ago, my friend’s brother was killed after leaving a dance party because he was dancing with a girl who one of the hoodlums liked. They shot him 20 times,” Reyes said.

Despite occasional violence, however, NYPD data for the 72nd Precinct clearly shows a shift away from the crime-ridden times of 20 years ago. The creation of the Sunset Park Fifth Avenue Business Improvement District helped create this decline in violence.

Reyes, who leaves the store daily at 9 p.m., has never been robbed or seen any violence firsthand in her neighborhood.

Julia Fierro, owner of Maria’s Mexican Bistro in Sunset Park, also feels safe living in the neighborhood.

“Two years ago, there were a lot of gang fights and we couldn’t send out delivery boys at night because they would rob them,” said Fierro. “But now, we stay open late at night and have never experienced any problems.”

The community in Sunset Park is predominantly Mexican, with a mix of Dominicans, Puerto Ricans, Salvadorians and Chinese. Many of the Mexicans have been here for years and have had started families.

The community is not deaf to recent anti-immigration sentiments in the U.S. The new Arizona anti-illegal immigration law, known as SB1070, which proposes, among other things, to deny citizenship to the children of undocumented immigrants, scares many Mexicans in the neighborhood.

“There is fear that the law will come here and affect their children and families,” Reyes said as she stole a glance at her young son sleeping peacefully in a stroller behind the counter.

As a family business owner, she worries about how the law could affect her business if something similar passed in New York.

“For my future, I want to have my own business of the same style as my family’s. Who’s going to come buy Mexican products at my business if the people start getting too scared to be associated with Mexicans?” Reyes said.